


Tooth and Nail

by AkisMusicBox



Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: Angst, F/M, Jealousy, Lotus in the Mire, Stage Combat - Choking, Stage Fight, They Should Really Just Talk, stage combat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22928884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkisMusicBox/pseuds/AkisMusicBox
Summary: No. If I allow this to persist, I'll be snuffed out.She furrowed her brow and stared at Ren. "What are you doing here?"He winced. "Stunt rehearsal. You?""You know what I mean," she fired back. "You turned this movie down.""And now I have time for part of it," he said, gaze narrowing. "Coincidentally enough, I needed to talk to you."Kyoko's avoidance of Ren after the Boost article leads him to drastic measures. Now, they have to talk.
Relationships: Mogami Kyoko/Tsuruga Ren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65





	Tooth and Nail

**Author's Note:**

> I could actually make progress on a WIP, or I could channel my terrible mood these past few days into an angsty one-shot! 
> 
> I did a story concept idea awhile back, where I had the Discord give me prompts and I would write a page worth of a story outline. persephonekyoko asked me for my take on Lotus, and for some reason it turned a biiiit dark. This fic doesn't quite follow that specific outline, but the spirit's there!

Kyoko finished tightening her shoelaces in the dressing room. Filming was starting in a week and Director Morizumi wanted to get Kyoko started off with a bang. Her first scene would be combat -- Momiji sneaking through enemy territory and eliminating a sizeable guard. The scene would be wordless, but it epitomized her drive to serve Shizuma. In those moments, she wasn't a woman, but an extension of his will. As the sword was an extension of your arm, she was his weapon. _I need to get in that headspace. Momiji is Shizuma's. I am his._ The thought at first was repulsive -- she became an actress to _stop_ being another's instrument. _But, Shizuma has tried to free her countless times. She chooses to stay, and he does what he can to raise her up._

It reminded her of another person who ruined her mood. The tabloid cover still haunted her thoughts, especially considering how it wasn't even _true._ _An older woman who isn't even the one he loves. He loves someone terrible._ She latched onto the fact that she defeated that woman, at least in one arena. _I'm Momiji. I fought tooth and nail for this. It's mine._

_Tooth and nail._ _That's how she feels about Shizuma._ She conjured the image of Koga's costume tests. That face was the one Momiji was captured by, transfixed by, consumed by.

But the face changed. She swore. _Why did I have to overhear Morizumi?_ Koga's costume had to be modified from the original design -- the design specifically meant for someone of _his_ size. The one who filled him with despair.

She couldn't be the one who helped him be accountable, regardless of her wearing the chicken suit. He and the object of his affection wouldn't see each other on another set for who knows how long, so it was on him to find her, however that worked into coping with the press. The tabloid scandal had kept Yashiro busy and Ren under wraps. The strategy seemed to be neither confirming nor denying. _He can't afford to publicly rebuke someone like Kana-san. Strategy. It's all strategy._

Momiji knew about strategy, not despair. _She meets challenges with more fire. Sometimes too much fire._ The purpose of this scene was to set up Momiji's main flaw -- letting her obsession turn her into a beast. _If Sho had ever been someone worthy of it, I'd be her._ Because Shizuma was good. Shizuma fought for what was right. He was wrong for leading her on, but he was weak, too. He couldn't let himself be alone, so he kept Momiji close. It would be his undoing. _But she doesn't know that. She'd never hurt him. She'd hurt anyone else before they touched a hair on his head._

With that in mind, she exited the dressing room and entered the practice room. She strode to Director Morizumi and the stunt coordinator, a sense of trepidation creeping into her as Morizumi watched her with unbridled glee. _That's just Momiji talking. She only cares about one person's smile toward her. All others could be a threat._

"Have I got a treat for you, Kyoko-chan!" Morizumi said, clapping his hands together. "Took some creative scheduling, but this is going to be the cameo appearance of the decade. You should feel honored, as they specifically requested to play opposite of you."

Kyoko merely furrowed her brow. _Moko? No, she's already in America._ That fact tugged at her heart -- the one person who could have steeled her like no other wasn't even on the same continent as her anymore. Morizumi merely pointed to the door on the other side of the room.

Ren entered. Dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, he strode in as if he belonged there. As if his mere presence didn't make her want to run. Momiji would have ran; she doesn't engage in combat she's not prepared for. But Kyoko was a professional, so she reeled back only a step. Cold crept in on her fire.

Yashiro followed him in as well and began the appropriate greetings. Kyoko merely watched the proceedings warily, barely processing the pleasantries. "Might Kyoko-chan and I have the room for a few moments?" Ren asked Morizumi. "Allow us to catch up and set the scene."

"Ten minutes!" Morizumi declared. He ushered Yashiro, whose expression Kyoko refused to read, and the stunt coordinator out of the room.

_No. If I allow this to persist, I'll be snuffed out._ She furrowed her brow and stared at Ren. "What are you doing here?"

He winced. "Stunt rehearsal. You?"

"You know what I mean," she fired back. "You turned this movie down."

"And now I have time for part of it," he said, gaze narrowing. "Coincidentally enough, I needed to talk to you."

"Yashiro can help you," she said, her voice wavering a bit. She couldn't cry. She wouldn't cry. _Momiji, stop me._ "I can't help you confess to her."

"I do _not_ have feelings for Kana-san," he said. "She pulled an unfortunate stunt, but this isn't about her."

Kyoko shook her head adamantly. "I have a role to play, Tsuruga-san. I need to focus on Momiji, and this is ruining my grasp on her."

His nostrils flared. "You wouldn't speak to me any other way!"

"Because our last conversation went so well." She rolled her eyes. "Besides, I texted you back!"

His eyes darkened. A lock of hair fell over his eyes. "'I wish you the best'. No. No, I refuse to believe that's your only thought on the matter."

Momiji screamed _Run, run now!_ in her head. Kyoko held firm. "It's not my place to hold an opinion on what women you run around with."

Something in him cracked, she could feel. His whole body tensed. "What _other_ women do I spend time with, Mogami-san?" His voice was a low crackle, building heat. "With what _time_ am I seeing other women? What else do I do besides work, Mogami-san?" He pointed at her. "I spend time with you. I teach you how to walk like a model in the middle of the night. I help you work through your characters. I glue myself to you for whichever of Lory's hair-brained schemes happens to be on the agenda that week. What traces of _any_ other woman have you ever found in my home? If I was _seeing someone_ , if I was in _love_ with someone else, why would I risk that to go along with the whims of a willful kohai?"

_Willful kohai._ That's what she was. He said it. He said the thing she feared, the thing she knew she was, but it couldn't possibly register in her mind. _Else. Else_ buried itself in the back of her brain and anchored her in place. Her body was cold, her mind frozen. But he was smoke and fire raging and she was powerless to turn away. This was the man who stole her phone when Shotaro called.

His voice was acid rain. "That tabloid is documented proof of the _one time_ I have been caught unaware and accosted. _Once._ I am _not_ Fuwa. The times I'm not with you are filled with _work_ , not infidelity. And _every time_ I have come to you, I could do it with a clear conscious, because ever since you came to _my_ place of work and permeated every facet of _my life_ , I have been with _no one else._ You are the _only_ woman I have shared my bed with, and you better remember that the next time Fuwa comes slithering back to you."

_But..._

_But what? Else. He said "someone else". "No one else"._ Dread pooled in her stomach.

Jealousy and frustration radiated off of him toward the object of his distress. _Me._ _I made him Momiji. He sees the blind, naive fool in front of him who can't recognize what signs of devotion are._

Grief threatened to knock her over the edge again until Momiji shoved back. _Not you. Shotaro. Shotaro broke that part of you._

"No one else?" she asked, voice quivering.

"Only you," he said, adamantly, desperately.

A knock on the door and a call of, "Times up!" announced the rest of the party's return. Kyoko snapped back into character and gave Ren a quick nod. He took a deep breath and steadied himself.

The stunt coordinator took over. "You've both heard this, but the spiel must be said. The victim is in control, always. The energy comes _from_ the victim -- from his hands over yours, Kyoko-chan. If he taps, or if you're not in control of your character, you stop immediately. He's taller than me, so it might feel different to try and move him. Don't force it. Tsuruga-san, do not let her size lull you into a sense of security. A pair of hands on your throat is two more than there should be."

They both nodded, and the stunt coordinator gave them some space. "Places!" Morizumi called.

Ren found the middle of the room and Kyoko her place a few paces behind him. She dug her feet into the mat and pulled her gaze away from the way his hair brushed against his neck. _His beautiful neck._

"Action!"

The guard's stiff posture loosened, reaching a hand out and bending toward the ground. It was all the opening Momiji needed to dart over and kick at the back of one knee, then the next.

The guard's instinct to catch himself couldn't beat Momiji's training. She spun to face him, then hooked a foot behind his knee. She grabbed his opposite arm, tensing it as if she were trying to shove him. Really, she was his anchor to slow his fall. His other arm went out to brace himself. Momiji's other hand found his chest and mashed him into the mat.

The impact forced a groan out of the guard. Momiji crawled up him and sat high on his chest. Her legs pinned his arm to his torso and her hands went to his throat. Her thumbs found his collar bone, the rest of her hand wrapping around his shoulder. He grunted and tucked his chin into his chest, completing the effect.

Kyoko had strangled someone before, or at least attempted to. She knew how her arms were supposed to feel, how her face morphed into a snarl. She let tension enter her arms, not going past the wrists. She kept her expression steel, impassive, until the guard was able to slip his hands between her legs and grab her wrists. He pulled her into him, and that's when she let the rage consumer her -- her mind, her arms, her will, went into ending the menace of Sho Fuwa once and for all. _He did this to him._ She curled even closer to him. Even her hands and legs tensed, but any point of contact that touched Ren Tsuruga was exempt. She didn't want any bit of Fuwa to touch him ever again.

Ren spat and cursed and gurgled, and during a particularly vulgar heave, Morizumi called, "Cut! It's a rehearsal, hell, save that energy for the actual shoot!"

Kyoko released him and sat upright. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she became very aware of exactly who she had pinned between her legs. If all of her blood wasn't already in her head, her cheeks would have burn.

"No corrections," the stunt coordinator said. "One and done, both of you. You.. you can separate now!" He waved a hand and Kyoko practically jumped off of him. Ren's rise was a bit slower.

"Great," Morizumi said, some of his previous enthusiasm tempered. "Great, perfect. That means day one of the shoot's gonna go off great! You two..." He cocked an eyebrow at the actors. "We'll see you in a week." Morizumi waved and the stunt coordinator followed.

Yashiro stared at them, wild-eyed. "I think you two need to talk." He checked his watch and backed away slowly. "I think you two have the room for about twenty more minutes so... talk." He darted out of the door.

They were alone.

_What could Yashiro be thinking?_ She turned to ask Ren, but he was already staring at her. His breath was slightly labored, rising, falling, and rising again. His eyes were patient. He was the one on the razor blade, but would not move an inch until she did.

She didn't know what to say. How could she possibly explain to him how stupid they had both been?

But she knew what Momiji would want. She knew what she wanted. So she gave it to him.

A quick step, a reach for the back of his neck, and a tug propelled him forward. She consumed his mouth with hers, crushing the slightest bit of hesitation in his touch with her eagerness. One of his hands found her back and pressed her into him, while the other wound in her hair. One of her hands snaked into his hair in kind, to give her something to clutch.

When her lungs were burning for breath, they parted, but only just. Just enough to breathe. "We should talk, shouldn't we?" he asked, eyes searching her expression. She wondered how much hunger he saw, how much longing, how much relief. It did no good to keep it to herself anymore.

"I had to do that first," she said breathlessly. "I stole my kiss back. I'm the only one. Right?"

He answered her with another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise, after this I'll be back to your regularly scheduled fluff and less-flowery language. Maybe even some slap-stick!
> 
> Oh, and I couldn't resist putting in a Fleabag reference, [his BEAUTIFUL NECK!](https://i2.wp.com/66.media.tumblr.com/bd1b15d7c70e0e4947d8566f14bef4b1/tumblr_pscjkmF1oX1vlfhk2o1_540.gif?w=605&ssl=1)


End file.
